Momnesia

Funnier Than a Lampshade

During what was probably the best First Friday Augusta has ever had - congrats and thanks to the Greater Augusta Arts Council and poop on the Downtown Development Authority - Emerson and I had a great time just walking around the street festival listening to the musicians, watching people, and talking to acquaintances.

Many vendors had just pulled up their cars, vans or handcarts onto the sidewalk or the green spaces and hawked their wares from their trunks or hatchbacks. The free market economy at work. Most everything they sold had James Brown emblazoned across the merchandise, since it was the city's first birthday celebration since his passing in December. Of course, they were all misappropriating his image, so maybe not the free market economy at work. Maybe trademark and copyright infringement at work. But anyway.

As Emmie and I tromped back down Broad Street toward the car - it was very close to her bedtime - one of the enterprising young ladies with a minivan full of merchandise stopped us. "Here," she said, rather unceremoniously. "I'm giving these away to children today." From the white cloth shone the silkscreened face of the Godfather of Soul. "I'm Real," the caption said.

"Thank you very much," I replied, feigning delight. I didn't want to accept it, because - okay, well it was ugly. But Emerson snatched it out of the lady's hands with a "dankoo" and we went on our way. It was a pair of panties. Size XL. Tweety Bird on the front, James Brown on the back. Free panties. From a person we didn't know. On the street. I started to toss them in the nearest garbage can, but...

"PANNEEEEES!" Emerson shrieked with excitement. "Panneees!" She waved them at me. "Emmie panneees!" She laughed and jumped like someone has just told her we'd be moving into a house made entirely of cookies, cake and candy, and that we'd have to eat our way out for $1 million. I let it go. They were clearly hers.

"Panneees!" she ran in a little circle. She's lagging a little behind in her potty training at day care, so some other little girls wear Dora the Explorer panties or other such underclothes made entirely of rainbows and the woven hairs of faerie princesses. Faerie ballerina princesses. Emerson desperately wants to wear panties. She steals mine and puts them on, pulling them up to her armpits and waddling around the house, pointing to the lace. "Fwowers!"

But right now she is waving the panties frantically at me. "Panneees!" she crowed. "Pannees!"
"Yeah, pannees!" I reflected back to her. "Very nice!"
"Puh on." she insisted.
"Okay," I said. "You can put them on."
"Ahhhhhhh!" she scream-laughed, and ran a little circle. "Emmie puh on pannees!"
"Well, go ahead."
And she stopped and pulled them into place.
On her head.